


if you ever change your mind about leaving, leaving me behind

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [22]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alien Culture, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Ravager Traditions, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “...Are you made out ofdiamonds?”“Crystal, but close enough.”





	if you ever change your mind about leaving, leaving me behind

“Alright, this is real easy, promise – your hand goes _here_ , and your other hand goes... _here_...” 

Peter grinned down at Mantis as she looked at their hands with wide, dark eyes. The others were gathered around in the mess, the Zune set up on its dock and playing music. It was a quieter moment on the Third Quadrant, nothing too pressing going on; no jobs to worry about, nobody trying to kill them. 

They had decided to take a bit of time to themselves after Kraglin’s surgery, if only to give the Ravager a chance to recover in something resembling a restful atmosphere. There were still random arguments, things to fix around and one the ship, and Groot still got into everything that he shouldn’t – but overall it seemed to be helping the older Ravager some. 

Peter liked taking some time for them, honestly; liked getting to know his team not just through jobs, but during the off-hours as well. He liked seeing Gamora smile so openly (for her) with her friends, and Kraglin reach out and try to get to know his teammates, old and new. It felt like a very fragile, promising beginning. 

“What do we do now?” Mantis asked, looking up at Peter again. Her antennae were perked up, and Peter’s smile widened. 

“And now you follow my lead.” 

Peter stepped back, falling into familiar steps that reminded him of his mom. Mantis seemed to perk up a little, a small smile lighting her face, and he figured it was because of the happiness he felt remembering when he and his mother would dance around in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. 

It was a skill he was determined to pass around to anyone willing to learn: dancing was something that could be shared, unlike the majority of his other skills. Besides, it was honestly just _fun_ , and as Drax had said before, he was definitely a dancer. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kraglin get up and leave them room. The conversation didn’t lull and no one sounded angry, though, so he didn’t worry about it. Sometimes Kraglin got a little quiet and needed to be by himself: he got that. So long as he didn’t do anything terrible or damaging, he could do whatever he liked. 

Mantis stumbled a bit, and Peter caught her quickly, squeezing her elbow reassuringly when she grimaced. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry...” 

“Hey, s’all good, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t paying attention.” They righted themselves, Peter looking over to see Gamora smiling at the two of them. 

“Hey, Gamora, you want a dance?” 

“No thank you,” she shook her head, glancing down at Groot as he shimmied off of her lap where he’d been sitting for the last few minutes. “You’re teaching Mantis to dance, not me.” 

“I just thought if she saw you dance, she could try and copy you.” 

“Peter.” She looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and he smiled at her unrepentantly. “She’s doing _fine_.”

“Okay, okay,” he held out a hand, before placing it back on Mantis’ waist, smiling down at the insectoid with a wink. “Ms Cranky doesn’t want to dance. We don’t need her anyway, right Mantis?” 

“But Gamora is strong and very capable and an important member of the team—”

“I’m just joking around,” Peter cut in. Mantis blinked, mouth clicking shut, before she gave one of her wide, wide smiles; eyes crinkling in the corners so much it almost looked like it hurt. It was a far nicer expression than the quiet, docile one she tended to wear when she was unsure of herself. 

“I get it!” 

She totally didn’t, but Peter didn’t point that out. He started moving again, and Mantis immediately looked down at their feet. 

“Don’t watch your feet; you’re setting yourself up for disaster that way.” 

“Huh? I am?” 

“Well, not really – but if you’re concentrating too much on your feet, you’re not really enjoying yourself. Dance is meant to be _fun_.” 

“Ohh.” Mantis nodded, glancing down at their feet once more, before firmly looking up at Peter. “I shall do my best.” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

The comm overhead crackled to life, then, and everyone stopped what they were doing. 

“Uh, Pete?” 

Peter pulled away from Mantis a little, hand resting on her arm. Her hands fell away from him, folded in front of her; watching him as he looked up at the ceiling. Not that Kraglin could see him, but it was habit. 

“What’s up, Kraglin?” 

“We’re bein’ hailed. Could ya come up t’the bridge?” 

“Be there in a minute.” The comm crackled back into silence, and he looked over to the rest of his team with raised eyebrows. “Looks like our dancing lessons will have to be put on hold, Mantis.” 

“Do you want us to come with you?” 

Peter looked over at Gamora, thinking about it before shaking his head. Gamora frowned, narrowing her eyes. 

“Nah – Kraglin didn’t sound worried, just kinda confused. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

He was one hundred percent sure it was _not_ nothing, but Kraglin had actually sounded a little strangled, and he only ever got like that when something unexpected happened that he felt only Peter would get. Usually it had something to do with Yondu, and Peter appreciated the first mate’s discretion when it came to those discoveries. 

Those discoveries usually involved _emotions_. He was getting better about not being a weird mixture of angry and distraught, but he didn’t exactly want his team seeing him like that all the same. Not when it still felt pretty raw – or, at least, undercooked. 

He left the mess with a smile, seeing Groot come up to Mantis and reach up to take her hands so that _they_ could dance without further ado. But once he was alone, making his way up to the bridge, he could feel the tension creeping into his shoulders. 

“Alright, Kraglin – who’s hailing us?” 

“M-Ship.” 

Peter blinked, coming up beside Kraglin and looking out the observation deck window. He could just make out the shape of an M-Ship floating in front of them. 

“Sure it’s not Nebula dropping in for supplies and an info-dump?” 

“Checked the specs – not her M-Ship.” 

“Great.” Peter scratched at his throat, chewing the inside of his cheek. “ _Do_ you recognize the specs?” 

“...Might.” 

Peter blinked. Kraglin shifted, lifting a hand to run his fingers over the healed-over surgery scars. They looked less red and angry recently; Peter wondered if Rocket had given the Ravager tips on how to take care of major surgery scars. Or maybe Gamora – the two of them knew a thing or two about enhancements. 

“Nothing for it,” he said after a moment. He leaned over to the captain’s chair, pressed the button to accept the hail, and watched as the observation window turned into a video screen. Peter blinked at the person on the other end. 

“...Are you made out of _diamonds_?” 

“Crystal, but close enough.” The Pluvian on the other end of the call gave a casual smile. “You must be Quill.” 

“You must be... a guy...?” 

The Pluvian laughed, and Kraglin groaned a little before elbowing Peter in the ribs. 

“Hey!” 

“Tha’s Stakar’s _right hand man_ , Peter.” 

“Does Stakar’s _right hand man_ have a name, or is that his name?” 

“Friends call me Martinex,” the Pluvian answered for himself. Kraglin seemed to finally get with the program and offered the other Ravager a salute. “Hey, Kraglin – none of that, now. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” 

“...Ain’t cap’n,” Kraglin said after a moment. Martinex tilted his head, and Kraglin jabbed his thumb in Peter’s direction. “Pete’s cap’n.” 

“Huh.” 

“Sorry to interrupt the conversation currently going way over my head,” Peter said, hands on his hips, “but _why_ are you hailing us? From an M-Ship at that?” 

“Oh, right – I’m here for a reason. Could I come aboard?” 

“...Say what now.” 

“You can scan my ship and make sure it’s not a ticking time bomb. And I’ll leave my weapons at the door. I’m just delivering something from Stakar and the other captains.” Martinex gave a smile then, fully of shiny, shiny teeth, and Peter wondered briefly if the guy was just all crystal and if there were any fleshy parts. 

His mind went to a dark place and he grimaced before looking over at Kraglin. He quickly muted the conversation. 

“What do you think, Krags?” 

“...I think yer cap’n an’ it’s yer decision t’make?” 

“See, it is comments like those that make me think you only unofficially promoted me to captain so that you could avoid making big decisions.” 

“...tha’ is _exactly_ why I unofficially promoted ya to cap’n.” 

“...you asshole.” 

Kraglin smirked briefly before he rubbed at his neck. “Martinex was always a good guy – tried t’make people feel comfortable an’ shit like tha’. See no harm in lettin’ him aboard. ‘Sides, if he tries t’pull somethin’, we’ll just kill ‘im.” 

“I feel like I should say our problem-solving skills as a team needs to advance beyond ‘murder them’, but it’s worked so well so far. Though maybe we’ll try and _not_ kill one of Yondu’s old buddies? Maybe?” Peter unmuted the link, smiling at Martinex. “Sorry ‘bout that, you’re welcome to come aboard.” 

“Sweet.” Martinex gave a quick salute and a smile before the comm link disconnected, leaving Peter and Kraglin to watch as his M-Ship approached. 

“...Get the docking bay doors open, Kraglin; I’m gonna go welcome our guest.” 

“Aye, Cap’n.” 

“Don’t you ‘captain’ me.” 

“Aye, Cap’n.” 

~+~

Peter waited until the little light above the docking bay stopped glowing red – meaning that the vacuum of space was a real threat and he should not open the door without a space suit – before punching open the door and walking in. 

The Quadrant’s bay was not as big as the whole of the _Eclector’s_ , with room for maybe two ships at a time, if you were willing to squeeze. The _Milano_ was docked to the farthest side, looking better than she had when they’d first picked her up but still in veritable pieces. Rocket was doing well rebuilding her, and Peter helped out where he could – but they were no Nova Corp engineering team, and they had to scrap up resources where and when they could. 

He approached the unfamiliar M-Ship, however, taking note on its make, the wear-and-tear, and the colours Martinex had chosen for the ship. She was a beauty, slick and smooth, coloured in blacks and blues with just a hint of crystallized silver. Not quite to his tastes, but he could appreciate it. 

“What’s this?” 

“Whoa, hey, Gamora,” Peter looked over his shoulder at the Zen-Whoberi as she came up beside him. He looked around quickly, noting that none of the other Guardians were around; he could see Kraglin walking towards them from the door, expression closed off but body language apprehensive. “Just a guest.” 

“What _kind_ of guest?” 

Peter looked back at Gamora, taking in her hooded eyes and slight frown, and sighed through his nose. 

“Guy named Martinex – he’s Stakar Ogord’s first mate. Said he had a delivery to make. We scanned his ship, it’s not booby trapped and he’s actually on it. He’s leaving his weapons on the ship.” 

Gamora narrowed her eyes, lips firmed into a thin line, before she nodded. Kraglin came up to Peter’s left, then, hands loose at his sides in place of anywhere better to put them. Peter turned back to the ship just in time for the ramp to come down and the Pluvian to come aboard. 

He was shorter than Peter, built for endurance, and _way_ shinier than the vid comm had made him appear. He was dressed in what Peter recognized as similar leathers to Stakar’s, during his one and only meeting with the older Ravager. He held a small box under his arm. 

He stopped in front of the trio, looking between them; giving a nod to Kraglin and an appraising look to Peter before lingering on Gamora. 

“I don’t believe I’ve met the lady.” 

“Gamora,” she said, holding her chin up. Martinex’s eyes widened and a smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. “I see you’ve heard of me.” 

“Kraglin, your company has not become any less terrifying,” he said after a moment. Kraglin snorted, and he grinned. “I’m Martinex. Anyway, I’m here to make a delivery to the remaining crew of the _Eclector_.” 

“What’s left of her,” Peter muttered. Kraglin wrinkled his nose and Martinex looked at him again, tilting his head. “What’s the delivery?” 

“Patience, captain,” Martinex said, smiling. “There’s ceremony involved and everything.” He cleared his throat, then, holding up the box. “Before we get started, feel free to scan the box.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes, jerking his head at Kraglin who stepped forward, scanner already in hand. After a few seconds, the Xandarian shook his head, and Peter crossed his arms and waited. 

“Dope.” Martinex smiled, but kept the box in front of him. “Captain Peter Quill of the mothership _Eclector_ , you are the successor of Yondu Udonta, is that correct?” 

“...Yes?” 

“You are captain of all he built; caretaker of all under his care?” 

“Yes.” 

“You flew the colours, and guided his essence into eternity – to what we call rest. You have followed the rites and done the Clans proud. He will be remembered with us.” 

“And he will be remembered with us.” 

Martinex nodded, holding out the box, then. Hesitating, Peter reached forward and took the box. It was only small, just a little bigger than his hand, and he pried open the lid, moving aside packing paper to see something he didn’t think he’d see again. 

“Apparently he lost his, during the mutiny,” Martinex said softly as Peter slowly pulled out a familiar patch. “Least, that’s what your crewmate Rocket told me, when I comm’d him a while back and asked. Took it off at some point and it went with the wreckage of the ship.”

“...Why?” 

“Usually, a captain’s funeral would have all the works. The captains would get together and actually do the burial rites – prepare the body, say a few things, the whole shebang. It was Yondu’s right as a captain. But we weren’t there in time, so you had to go ahead and do it.” Martinex shrugged a shoulder, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“And this?” 

“During the preparations, the commander – Captain Stakar – would have taken the patch from Yondu and set it aside. It’s supposed to go from the previous captain to the next – you’re not meant to wear it.” Martinex held out a hand as Peter opened his mouth. “It’s symbolic. I think Terra has this thing with flags?” 

“...Your guess is as good as mine,” Peter said, looking back down at the flame patch. 

“Anyway, Captain Stakar wanted to do this bit right, at least. Too much of everything else fucked up the entire ceremony – exiles and miscommunication and all of that – but he thought we could do _this_ right, at least. He sent me ‘cause he didn’t think you’d be all that receptive to him, considering your last conversation.” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t a great one,” Peter agreed. He sighed, then, wrapping his fingers around the flame patch and looking at Martinex. “I don’t actually blame you guys for his dying, you know?” 

“Thanks,” Martinex smiled a little, expression grateful. “Also, Captain Stakar wanted me to tell you that, should you ever have need of our aid, the 99 Ravagers Clans are with you.” 

He straightened up, then, punching his chest in the salute. Peter blinked, pressing his own fist against his chest in the gesture so familiar-unfamiliar that it almost made his chest ache. When Martinex turned to go back into his ship, he cleared his throat. 

“Hey, uh. Wait.” 

Martinex turned to look at him expectantly. 

“...I don’t imagine the flight was a short one. You could stick around for a bit? Maybe refuel? Dinner should be soon, and I wouldn’t mind actually getting to know Yondu’s old crewmates.” 

Martinex looked at Peter for a long time; just contemplating him. He then grinned and nodded, stepping over to them easily. 

“I’d like that.”


End file.
